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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682133">Dear Legend</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeking7/pseuds/Seeking7'>Seeking7</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>LU Creative Train (Angst Track) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with an Open Ending, But he's alive in the fic, Hyrule (Linked Universe)-centric, Letter fic, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Mentions of Legend being dead, Train conductors: how much star symbolism are you gonna put in this fic?, me: yes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:15:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeking7/pseuds/Seeking7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Legend,</p><p>	I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. It was disrespectful. It was wrong. It was so so wrong. I didn't know it was yours. I didn’t know what I was doing. And neither do you, I just realized. So I’ll just say the truth.</p><p>A long time ago, I spat on your grave. </p><p> </p><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX</p><p>Hyrule writes Legend a letter, confessing a sin from his youth. </p><p>He isn't sure how to say it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hyrule &amp; Legend (Linked Universe)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>LU Creative Train (Angst Track) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dear Legend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, all! I hope you enjoy this story I wrote for the Angst Track of the LU Creative Train. I thought the prompt was "stars" (oopsies, a little off, heh). </p><p>All the strikethroughs in this fic are intentional! There are two different stories contained in this fic. For the first story, skip everything Hyrule has crossed out in the letter. For the second story, read the crossed-out passaged in the letter. Of course, you're not obligated to do this! Read this however you like. It might just be a neat thing to do if you have some extra time!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strike> <em> Dear Legend, my best friend,  </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Dear Legend, my only friend,  </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Dear Link, the Hero of Legend,  </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Dear Shooting Star,  </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Legend, </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. </em> <strike> <em> It was disrespectful. </em> </strike> <em> It was wrong.  It was so so wrong. </em> <em> <strike>I didn't know it was yours</strike>. </em> <em> I didn’t know what I was doing. And neither do you, I just realized. So I’ll just say the truth. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A long time ago, I spat on your grave.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> I remember the first time I did it. I was thirteen. The South Star, the one I was told to follow whenever I was lost, guided me to the Great Graveyard of Hyrule. It was an awful place. It still is an awful place. It doesn’t feel as </em> <strike> <em> scary </em> </strike> <em> dangerous as the other places in my Hyrule. It just feels sad. It always feels sad. The flowers by the tombstones turn brown in only a few days, whether because of the sun or the dirt or both I don’t know.  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> When I first arrived, I wasn’t sure what to do. I trusted the star </em> <strike> <em> but didn’t trust myself </em> </strike> <em> <strike>,</strike> so I walked along the edge of the graveyard and tried not to read the names written on the tombstones. Something about it made me feel lost. More lost than usual. Lost in a way that even the South Star wouldn’t be able to guide me back home. The smell of rotten flowers, </em> <strike> <em> that graveyard always smells like rotten flowers, </em> </strike> <em> was very strong, so I had to press my nose between my fingers as I walked along. I kept moving and reminded myself that the South Star would protect me, that she would guide me, that she wouldn’t lead me astray. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I said this to myself as I wandered deeper and deeper in the graveyard. I said this to myself as I started shivering. I said this to myself as my nose went numb because I was pinching it so hard. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That was when I first saw the King’s Grave.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And that’s when I knew why the South Star had brought me to the graveyard. Or, at least, I thought I did.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Even thinking about it now, I wish I had brought flowers. </em> <em> <strike>I know they would have died quickly, but perhaps the flower’s ghosts would make their way to the King. And maybe he would have smiled when he realized he was still remembered</strike>. </em> <em> The King was the kind of man that deserved to be remembered. Even though he died long before I was born, I knew everything about the Great, Old King of Hyrule, who had made silver as common as dross and who ruled with wisdom and courage and power. He was the perfect king. Some people say that Ganon only dared to awaken after the King had died, and I believe it.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> I started crying. I had already known he was dead, but there was something about seeing my hero’s grave that made me sad.  </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was another grave next to his, with a marker cut from the same stone and a cluster of hibiscuses in front.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That’s when I stopped crying. That’s when I became angry.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I told myself that there was no grave that belonged next to the king’s.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I looked closer at the headstone. I remember exactly what it said.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Shooting Star” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “The blacksmith’s nephew; gone too soon” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There’s anger, and there’s rage.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Rage is what I felt when I looked at the headstone.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Shooting Star” was a nobody. He didn’t have a real name. He didn’t have a legacy. He didn’t have anything, he was no </em> <strike> <em> legend or </em> </strike> <em> historical figure, but his grave was right next to the king’s. And why? What did he do to deserve that? Die? So had everyone else in the graveyard. So had the king. I told myself that this was an act of great disrespect, of a nobody trying to leech off the king’s glory. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I didn’t even think for a second that I might be wrong. I didn’t think for a second that there might be more to the story. I wish I had.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> So I did what I thought was right. I spat on the tombstone. I cursed the stuck-up, dishonest hands that had buried “Shooting Star.” I moved the hibiscuses to the King’s grave, where I thought they belonged.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> Legend I’m sorry I’m so so sorry.  </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><em> I came back more than once. I came back when East Hyrule had first been discovered, not for “Shooting Star,” but for the King. </em> <strike> <em> I was 14, then, and I thought he might want to know about this new land. </em> </strike> <em> The South Star guided me. I brought flowers that time, lovely golden roses that </em> <strike> <em> Zelda </em> </strike> <em> Dawn had grown in her own garden. </em> <strike> <em> We had grown them together, actually. Those were some of the best days of my life. </em> </strike> <em> I sat next to the King’s grave for the whole day, telling him stories and twisting the roses into a flower wreath. </em> <strike> <em> I used some of the flowers from “Shooting Star’s” grave to complete it. </em>  </strike></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I made sure to spit on the impostor’s grave before I left.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> I came back again when </em> <strike> <em> Zelda </em> </strike> <em> Dawn became sick and couldn’t see me for a month. </em> <strike> <em> She had turned so cold and pale and small in those weeks, and a day didn’t go by that I didn’t cry </em> </strike> <em> <strike>.</strike> I </em> <strike> <em> begged </em> </strike> <em> asked the South Star for peace and guidance, and she pitied me. For the first time since </em> <strike> <em> my best friend </em> </strike> <em> the princess became ill, I wanted to wander. And so I did.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The South Star brought me back to the graveyard.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> I thought it was because she wanted me to talk to the King. That’s what I always thought, and that’s what I always did, and that’s what I did then. I sat with the King that night, the entire night, and </em> <strike> <em> cried </em> </strike> <em> asked for advice. He didn’t have any to give, and I left feeling just as frustrated and sad as before.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I know now that was because I had asked the wrong person.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> Legend I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. I should have known better, I should have treated you better, I should have brought you flowers and songs and tears and all the things a dead hero deserves. Forgive me forgive me forgive me.  </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><em> I came many more times. I came when I was </em> <strike> <em> brokenhearted and bleeding and </em> </strike> <em> tired and bored </em> <strike> <em> but mostly when I was lonely </em> </strike> <em> <strike>.</strike> The King never had anything to say, and the grave next to his paid the price for my anger. Sometimes I ignored “Shooting Star” completely. Sometimes I tore up his flowers. Sometimes I chipped off pieces of his headstone to crush into powder and drop into the sea.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But each and every time, I spat on the grave.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And each and every time, I felt proud of myself. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> Forgive me. I didn’t know what I was doing.  </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Time went by. I grew </em> <em> up </em> <em> older. I saved </em> <strike> <em> Zelda </em> </strike> <em> Dawn’s ancestor, Aurora. I made friends. I lost friends. I lost myself, once, and the South Star guided me back home to the cave I grew up in.  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> I think she had given up on the graveyard. </em> <strike> <em> I definitely had. </em>  </strike></p><p> </p><p><em> I spent the days between my second adventure and my third, this one, </em> <strike> <em> at home </em> </strike> <em> in a cave in Central Hyrule. Sometimes the old man </em> <em> who lived there asked what the worst day in all my traveling was. Every time, I said it was when I almost let my own shadow kill me. I was wrong.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The worst day of my life was when I learned your uncle used to call you “Shooting Star.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The worst day of my life was when I learned that hibiscuses were your favorite flowers.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The worst day of my life was when I realized the grave was yours.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><strike> <em> Zelda </em> </strike> <em> Dawn used to tell me that I had stardust in my blood, that the spirit of the South Star would never let me veer off the path of righteousness. She told me that I was the hero of Hyrule, a ‘paragon,’ </em> <strike> <em> her best friend </em> </strike> <em> , a symbol of hope for our world. I told her I hoped she was right.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She wasn’t. I can see that now.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> I’m unworthy of being your successor. I’m sorry for everything I did. </em> <strike> <em> I hope that one day you can forgive me. This isn’t an excuse, I just needed to explain. </em> </strike> <em> I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I just decided that you deserve to know the kind of person I really am. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Forgive me, </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> I’m sorry, </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Sincerely, </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> From,  </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> --Hyrule   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hyrule pulled the nub of his pencil away from the yellowed paper. His eyes flickered over his words, rereading his hundredth draft of the same letter for the hundredth time, crossing out phrases and terms that didn’t make sense and ensuring that the periods and commas were all written the way Time and Legend had taught him. The moonlight was dim. The beach’s sand was grainy and warm underneath him. The laughter of the other’s echoed in the distance, and the waters of Wind’s Great Sea lapped curiously around Hyrule’s boots.</p><p> </p><p>Everything was written down.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled the paper closer to his face, fingers shaking and vision blurry. He folded the paper once. Twice. Three times. Four times. He knelt in the sand and stared up at the South Star. She stared back, shame written on her pale face, and hid herself in a vagrant cloud. White pinpricks of light dappled the surface of the sea. Anyone else might have thought that they were simply the reflection of stars on the inky surface of the waters, but Hyrule knew better. </p><p> </p><p>Those were the tears of the South Star.   </p><p> </p><p>She had never wanted this to happen. </p><p> </p><p>He crumpled the letter in his hand and plunged it in the cool waters, watching as the paper darkened and softened and melted into clumps of sodden, wordless snow. They drifted out into the sea, empty and silent. His secret drowned in the black waves. </p><p> </p><p>“There is no stardust in my blood,” he said at last. </p>
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